To Smile Again
by Rosalyn-Diggory
Summary: George doesn't think he'll ever feel again. Lost in his despair, it's the courage and compassion of a lioness that might just make him smile again.


Dull brown eyes opened to stare up at the chipping ceiling. As sensation returned, he found himself drenched in sweat and feeling weak. Again. Squeezing his eyes shut, as if to block out the thoughts of _why_ he woke up like this again, he rolled out of bed. His feet made contact with the rough wooden floor, and his legs decided they couldn't hold his weight. With a crash, George Weasley fell to his knees, staring at the floor with a hollow look in his eyes.

It had been all of two month since the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was called. He'd gone to the funerals, all of them, mostly because his mother had forced him to go. All the funerals but one, that was. Six weeks ago, they buried Fred. He couldn't bring himself to go, to look at the simple wooden casket, or even to visit the headstone his mother and father had so lovingly carved for their son.

"You've been having nightmares again." a soft voice emanated from the direction of the door. George didn't look around. He heard stocking-covered footfalls approach him, and suddenly he wasn't looking at the floor, but at the face of one very concerned Hermione Granger.

"Haven't you?" she prodded again, brushing her thumb gently along his gaunt cheek. He nodded mechanically.

"Y-yeah… mostly.. About… you know." Hermione nodded gently, entwining a hand with his.

"I have them too, you know." George looked up and felt shock stir within him (though it was very feeble. The darkness he was in made most emotions dull). Hermione had a haunted look in her eyes as she motioned for him to look down. Very slowly, he did, and he watched in abject horror as Hermione pulled her sleeve up to reveal the word _Mud blood_ carved into her arm, as red and as raw as if it had been carved mere hours before. George reached out absentmindedly, taking her arm gently to survey the damage- she'd told them, of course, but never once shown them. Not even Ron or Harry. Fleur was the only one who had seen it, and she'd locked herself away with Bill, mourning in their own private way.

"I suppose my nightmares are sort of similar to yours." Hermione's voice was soft. "I know she's gone, but I'm terrified of her still." Hermione paused, looking up at the red haired young man. "You know he's gone, and terrified of it… And, I can't imagine what it's like, to be without your twin. The connection you two shared was incredible to see… and I can't fathom how deep your despair runs, with him gone." Hermione took George's hand again.

"Hermione…" he started, but his voice seemed to stop working. What could he say, anyways? Everything she said was true, from the moment she'd walked through his door.

"I'm not finished, George." Hermione took a breath. "It's hard, incredibly so, to lose anyone you love. And letting yourself grieve for them is healthy, it's natural. _But_ ," Hermione paused and stared George down until he met her gaze. " _But_ , letting yourself waste away, and refusing to do anything at all is not healthy. I don't expect what I say to make you do an about-face. All I'm asking- not just me everyone- all we ask is that you live _for_ him, don't give your life up because he's gone." Hermione reached up and placed a light kiss on his cheek before standing, and moving to the door. Before she left, George heard her mutter something, but before he could gather the will to ask what she'd said, she'd gone.

George was rooted to the spot, thought and emotions warring as he thought on Hermione's words. As time passed around him, George found the fog of darkness and despair lessening ever so slightly. It was just enough that he noticed it, and he felt a slightly less dull surge of affection for the bushy-haired witch. George pulled himself back into bed and glanced to his nightstand. A bottle stood there, the beautiful flowing script proclaiming it to be dreamless sleep. A note was attached to the side, in the same flowing script.

 _George,_

 _When you decide to sleep, which I've no doubt you will, take this. It's a dreamless sleep draught I brewed. It's still highly addictive, so you won't get any more unless I see you need it. The nightmares get easier, but the path is long and hard. If you ever need someone to talk to, or just company, I'll be staying at the burrow a few more weeks. After that, you can always owl me and I'll be over in a flash._

 _Don't Give Up._

 _H._

He downed the bottle and, for the first time since he saw his brother's body, George managed a small smile.

 **A/N: My first attempt at a Geormione fic. One shot for now. If my muses come back, I'll continue it.**

 **Hope you all liked it :) No beta, let me know if I missed grammar or spelling.**

 **Go be charming cookies today!**

 **~Rosalyn**


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